His Journal Bled In A Black Red





Page after page, hand drawn images, shadows cast lowly visages
Never the two shall ever meet, though desire craves to greet
Sharing tids, of bits, of pieces, a puzzle begins to reason
The constant pounding as a boy, beating drums at deaths door
A shell covers his true form, hiding from a raging storm
Shades that fall, sight darkens, blackbird sings, the night harkens
His journal bled in a black red, thoughts exploding in his head
Page after page the final image, a moment frozen, captured in a message

These are the words that end a picture story
Created in the darkest colours, a black red only
Greys lightly caress, day’s that are blessed
Etched across a face, forever depressed
Lines that break tips, furiously scratching
Tearing the pages, fibres screaming
A secret held from roving eyes
Reveals a truth from constant lies
The joy of being lonely is a disease
It pains, it buckles the strongest knees
Repeats, reciting a prayer
The courage to stand square
Eye to eye in fear, bound us both
Pledge a loves never ending oath


Ax

Hard


how the buzz from a hit of weed propels the mind to open wide…

I have felt pain, who has not
I’ve cried hard to the point of passing out
Struggling to breathe in air
When lungs are weighted down by a heavy heart

I have felt love, who has not
I’ve awed watching lovers holding hands
Inner tears fill the throat
The swallows hard, trying not to choke

I have felt sadness, who has not
I’ve sunk down low enough to call it quits
Thoughts, exploding in my head
It’s the hard that drives the desire to carry on

Ax

Enough


When will it be enough to fill the want.
Could it be measured using a bucket.
Watching it reach the rim,
adding some more but as soon
as I lift, the pail spills.

When will it be enough to call it day.
Would it be timed from the suns rise.
Ending to where it fades as it sets,
turning to night, and
counting the stars as wealth.

When will it be enough to say goodbye.
The final farewell to a sad, sad song.
Told what to do, when and how,
playing the game without a win,
honestly or in sin.

When will it be enough to quit and die.
Reading the needle as it points to empty.
Pushing further, a little farther,
flicking eyes like an addict does,
speeding over the limit.

When will it be enough to finally smile.
Breathe with ease, go to sleep and dream.
Awake with the need to live without a frown,
from Monday to Sunday,
on any given day.

Ax

quando il cuore si spezza, ascolta il silenzio…